Smile
by Mad J-J
Summary: Sansa wants to see Sandor smile.


"The sun is quite pleasant today, isn't it?"

"…"

"Of course, the wind could be considered a little chilly – since we're in the South – but I don't find in too bothersome…"

"…"

"… What lovely birds over there, they seem to be enjoying the weather too!"

Her remark was met with another brooding silence. Sansa was aware that her conversation – or rather monologue, considering the lack of reaction from the Hound – was becoming quite asinine. She felt the fault was more his than hers in that matter though, since he didn't say a single word to help the conversation along, and she was left to find subject to discuss all by herself.

The weather might not be the most fascinating one, but couldn't he at least respond with… A grunt? Or a nod?

There was no obligation for them to discuss anything, but wouldn't it have made the trip back more pleasant?

She eyed him from underneath her lashes, observing his expression. Why did he have to look so serious? She had more reason to be gloomy than him in this place, but it didn't stop her from trying to put on a smile! Sansa didn't want to be feel down all the time, even less when she had to pretend that her current situation wasn't distressing to her, and she felt that he didn't help. At all.

Had he ever smiled in her presence? She couldn't recall.

She was curious to see it happen now.

"… And then the soldier told him 'I used to be an adventurer just like you, but then I took an arrow to the knee', and nodded towards his wife!"

The deafening silence that followed was as strong as a blow to her.

That joke always made Jon and Arya laugh so much! Granted, Sansa didn't understand it fully, but she had had it memorized by heart by now. Had she not told it correctly?

"Back to your cage," the Hound simply opened her door, his expression unmoving.

Sansa, in her new quest of making him smile, had been exhausting all the jokes she knew. Nothing! It was as if he was determined not to move a muscle on his face.

Snarling, brooding, even a manly form of pouting, that he could do. But smiling? She felt like she was trying to lift a mountain!

She had to think of something else.

"You truly shine in the training yard," remarked Sansa.

Nothing, not even a thank you. He simply eyed her as if she wasn't acting normally.

She wasn't saying anything that was untrue though, was she? Joffrey rarely acknowledged his capacities, treating them as if they were something to be expected, something normal, so she thought that maybe… It wouldn't be so bad if she told him that she saw value in his accomplishments.

And that maybe it finally would get him to smile a little.

"I don't know much about fighting – b-but you systematically beat your opponent. So, I…"

"I never thought the Little Bird would be appreciative of my ability to kill," he cut her short.

"What?"

"This is what it is all about, isn't it? This fighting you admire, it doesn't have anything to do with honor or other saccharine values you adore so much. Had I met those opponents on the battlefield, they would all be dead."

Sansa internally sighed, and gave up on the compliments. He only saw it as a way to give her another one of his life-lessons.

Sansa's eyes would have seemed focused on her work for anyone looking from the outside, but in truth, her mind was brewing with thoughts that were completely unrelated to threads and patterns.

She had already pricked herself thrice this morning, and it was a wonder she hadn't tainted her sewing with blood.

How does one make another – a reluctant other – smile?

She felt as if she had tried everything at this point. She probably would have succeeded with jokes if she had been better at telling them, or if she had known other ones.

All that was left for her to try was to make silly faces at him, and hope he didn't think she had simply lost her mind.

The memory of Arya, twisting her face in vulgar expressions, sometimes using her fingers to stretch the skin of her cheeks and nose in improbable position, made her both smile fondly and blush. Sansa was never doing something as undignified as _that_!

Well, she had given it her best shot, but it might have been time to give up now. It wasn't that bad after all. Just a smile…

Sansa shifted nervously from one foot to another. It was chilly this morning, especially as she waited standing outside of the training field in an awkward stance. She didn't feel like going to the bleachers where anyone could see her.

Finally, his tall figure made its way towards where she was standing. She knew he'd exit the place through here, as she had observed him many times before.

She almost called out 'Ser', before biting her tongue. He got grumpy – or downright aggressive - if she made the mistake of calling him that, which greatly reduced her choices in what she could call him. She was already fretting this encounter, there was no sense in angering him before even nearing the matter she wanted to address.

"Sandor!" she called without even thinking.

Well. That was his name, might as well use it.

He looked surprised at seeing her standing there, which made sense since she had never come close to this place before. She was surprised someone hadn't already find out she wasn't somewhere she was supposed to be and called a guard to forcefully accompany her back to her 'cage', as Sandor liked to describe it.

He approached, a look of suspicion in is eyes. Really, it was as if he thought she was luring him back here to slip a knife between his ribs, regardless of the fact that Sansa would never be able to achieve such a feat! In truth, she should have been the one worried while they were alone outside other people's sight.

She breathed, not to calm her nerves, that were strangely unruffled by this unusual encounter, but to gather the courage to hand him the gift she had made.

"I had something to give you," she simply said, holding out her hand.

It was a sort of apology gift. Even if he hadn't asked her anything, she still felt she had failed him in her attempts at bringing out a smile.

"Is this a way for you to thank me again?" he raised a mocking eyebrow, referencing a past discussion that had been too disastrous to remember right now.

"It's just a handkerchief," she shrugged, trying to project indifference to hide her nervousness. "If you don't want it it's fine…" she started to retract her arm.

"Fine," he cut her, grabbing the gift, "I'll take it. Now run along, it wouldn't do for someone to find you in such an isolated place."

He had spoken in such a way that made her feel like this was a great honor that he even accepted to take it, but… The rapidity of his move to take a hold of the handkerchief told Sansa that, maybe, there was something else behind it.

"I'll be on my way," she rapidly curtsied, turning around and heading back to where she was supposed to be.

Just before she turned the corner though, she risked a glance in his direction.

As he looked down on the pattern of dog she had sown with a discreet, yet unmistakable red bird flying so close to the border you could miss it, a soft smile laid on his lips.

 _It makes his eyes kinder_ , she thought before leaving, wearing a smile of her own.


End file.
